


tell me you love me even if you don't mean it (oh god i hope you mean it)

by i_write_shit_pls_read_it



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Brief Fluff, Car Sex, Domestic Moments, F/M, Goddamn it this was supposed to be a one-shot, Hot Sex, Smut, TW: Blood, and also sneak around fic, and only chapter 2, based on a prompt, but not really, but now it's an actual fic thing so shit, but only kind of, edit: this has now been proofread, give me feedback or I might die, just lots of sex, low key angst though, low key tw: addiction, ressler has a dangerous undercover mission and so he and liz have sex on a desk, spite as in if no one else will write keenler fics, takes place post 6.14, that's it that's the story, then I guess I'll have to do it, this fic was written mostly out of spite, this has not been proofread, this is now a liz and ressler get together, very low key, whatever idk how to tag shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_shit_pls_read_it/pseuds/i_write_shit_pls_read_it
Summary: Yeah basically once more I saw a prompt about ‘ressler goes on a dangerous mission and him and liz say goodbye’ or whatever. Technically I believe this is supposed to be an established relationship fic, but screw it I don’t know how to write people dating and I wanted to write Keenler banging on a desk so here have this instead. No it has not been proofread, just take the fic. (has now been proofread stop complaining my god) Now with chapter 2 that has an actual sort of semblance of plot for some reason have fun. Final chapter (3) has now been posted go wild





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're mean to me, I WILL cry. Do not test me.  
> edit: GIVE ME FUCKING PROMPTS TO WRITE  
> Follow me on twitter @writer_gen

Liz couldn’t bring herself to leave the Post Office the night before Ressler was set to go undercover.

She’d assured Cooper she would hit the lights on her way out, and continued to sit at her desk, pouring over all the files the Bureau had on Mr. Warren Steele, aka the Marksman. One of Reddington’s more business-like blacklisters, the Marksman ran a team of a half a dozen men and women, and could take out any target from up to 2000 yards away, for a price. Earlier that week the task force had shot and killed one of his snipers, and tomorrow Ressler would be going undercover to attempt to replace him.

Ressler was an FBI Special Agent, skilled as a sniper, cool under pressure, and good undercover. He’d participated in dozens of similar ops, and survived them all with his life and limbs still intact.

This was what Liz told herself, as her panic steadily mounted. She knew Ressler would be fine. They would be backing him up the whole way, there was a tracking device in his phone, shirt, and left shoe, and he had enough notches on his belt that he wouldn’t have any trouble proving his worth with a rifle, should it come to that. But none of these self-assurances were enough to shut up that stupid little voice in the back of her head that insisted they were missing something.

Liz pressed her fingers into her eyes, suddenly exhausted. She glanced down at her phone and groaned at seeing the time. At this rate she might as well just sleep on the couch in Cooper’s office.

“Still burning the midnight oil I see.”

Liz jumped to her feet, hands going automatically to her gun as she spun around to face the intruder, before recognizing the voice.

“Ressler,” she sighed, pressing a hand to her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here, it’s one o’clock in the morning.”

Her partner shrugged. “I could be asking you the same question.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the key difference being I don’t have to go undercover tomorrow. You need to make sure you’ve got your head on straight.”

“My head’s always on straight,” Ressler joked. “Besides, I already left for the day, but I had to come back since I forgot my computer.”

Liz looked over to the other desk and indeed, saw Ressler’s laptop. She blew out a breath. “Well, there it is. Now grab it and get out of here.”

Ressler walked around to his desk, and Liz returned her gaze to the files in front of her, mostly so she could be sure she wouldn’t look at him. He was certain to see the worry on her face if she did. “Tell me, are you planning on sleeping at all tonight Keen?”

Liz shrugged, stifling an inconveniently timed yawn. “Cooper’s got a couch.”

She looked up in time to see her partner raise his eyebrows, and her expression grew defensive. “We’ve had less than thirty hours to throw this op together, excuse me for wanting you to come out of it alive.”

Ressler held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Easy, Keen.”

Liz rubbed at her eyes. “Sorry, I just… I’d feel better if Samar was here.”

The name of their ex-colleague hung in the air between them, heavy with loss. Ressler sighed. “Yeah, I probably would too. But there’s not much we can do about it now.”

Liz nodded, thoughts spinning off in a thousand different directions as she let herself watch him. Dark pants, black V-neck, and a dark jacket on top. The sight made her mouth a little dry. She was used to him in suits, and he looked good in them, but Ressler in dark colors was a special kind of test of her self-restraint.

“Keen.”

Liz blinked, realizing he’d been talking to her. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Sorry, what?”

“I said you should get out of here. You’re the one in charge of watching my ass tomorrow and I’d rather you not be running on fumes while doing it.”

Liz nodded, and rose to her feet, stumbling a little as all her exhaustion seemed to catch up with her at once. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” She glanced back down at the papers, and forced her fingers to close up the folders she’d been scouring. If she didn’t know it now, she wouldn’t know it by tomorrow.

Looking satisfied, Ressler slung his bag over his shoulder and walked over as Liz turned and headed for the exit. She slid out the door just before him, and for a bare second he was so close behind her she couldn’t breathe, able to feel the heat of him on her back. Then they were in the main office and Liz headed over to get the lights. The elevator was open and Ressler was waiting inside expectantly, and Liz debated whether or not she was up to being in close quarters with him at the moment. Knowing there was no way to gracefully wait for the next lift without it becoming a thing, Liz fought back a sigh and walked over to join him.

The doors slid shut and Liz bit down on her lower lip, staring determinedly ahead. “You sure you’re all right to drive Keen?”

It took her a few seconds to sling together a response, and she knew the hesitation didn’t help her case. “Yeah, fine. I’ll just roll down the windows and turn up the radio.”

Ressler looked unconvinced but she ignored it.

When they stepped into the empty parking lot the cold air immediately acted as caffeine, giving Liz’s senses a refreshing shake. She shook her head, running her fingers through her hair, and gave Ressler what she hoped was a confident smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For a second she thought he might say something, and she waited on tenterhooks to see what it was. But then he merely nodded, waved, and headed off to his car. Liz closed her eyes, taking a brief moment to mentally kick herself, before heading off to her own.

***

“You can’t possibly go through with it.”

Ressler folded his arms, scowling at the adamancy of her position. “If I back out now, Steele is going to suspect something’s up and he and his crew will vanish. We’ll never have a shot like this again.”

“Agent Ressler, I’m afraid I feel inclined to side with Agent Keen on this one.” Cooper pushed up his glasses, looking concerned. “The original mission was to insert you into the group, we never planned on them asking you to carry out an actual assassination.” The Marksman had been hired by oil lobbyists to take out a prominent civil rights lawyer who was pushing for safer working standards.

Ressler clenched his hands, and Liz could see the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Worst case scenario I miss the shot, and we grab them for attempted murder. I can handle this.”

“And what happens if one of the other shooters is standing by as backup and kills her anyway?” Liz challenged. “And even if they don’t, who’s to say they won’t kill you to set an example?”

Aram coughed uncomfortably into his hand, and the three of them all turned to him. “Is there something you’d like to say Aram?” Cooper asked.

The tech operator cleared his throat, carefully avoiding eye contact with any of them. “Only that Agent Ressler is an extremely capable agent, and I think we should trust him to carry out the mission. We’ve come this far haven’t we?”

“Aram!” Liz exclaimed, feeling inexplicably betrayed, while Ressler looked vindicated.

Cooper sighed. “Do you feel confident you can pull this off?”

The question was clearly directed at Ressler, who straightened up. “Yes sir.”

“Alright, then it’s decided. Tomorrow we’ll proceed as planned.” Nodding like it was finished, Cooper headed back to his office, while Liz had to force herself to close her mouth. How could they all three be okay with this?

Furious at all of them, but most of all Ressler, Liz hardly talked to anyone for the rest of the day. When she absolutely had to speak, she kept her words as short as possible. Again she found herself the last one in the Post Office, obsessively going over the operation, looking for any sort of red flag.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and Liz immediately knew who it was. She didn’t want to say anything, but on the other hand she didn’t want to let him know how pissed she was. “Don’t tell me you forgot your computer again,” she ended up saying, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

“No, actually, I was waiting to make sure you went home at a reasonable hour.”

Liz scoffed before she could stop herself, and immediately refocused on the city blueprints in front of her.

“Seriously Keen. You can’t keep going at it like this, you’ll wear yourself out.”

Unable to ignore him, Liz plastered on a poisonous smile and turned her chair around to face him. “Well it could be worse. I mean, hypothetically, I could be going undercover to fake an assassination with a notorious hitman and his crew early tomorrow. But come on, I mean that would just be stupid.”

Ressler immediately scowled at her. “Why are you so dead set against this?” he demanded. “Do you not think I can take care of myself, is that it?”

“Of course I don’t think that,” Liz snapped, stung. “But I do think that we could find another way to get the op done without needlessly jeopardizing your safety, and I don’t know why you’re so hell bent on this.”

“I’m doing my job Keen,” Ressler insisted.

Fury rising in her like a snake, Liz pushed herself up from her chair, wishing she were two feet taller so she could look down her nose at him. “Would you knock it off with the holier than thou crap,” she demanded. “We do the same job, and so it’s pointless to try and hide behind the badge on this one. You just don’t care about the danger. Either that or you want to do the op because of it. Are you becoming some sort of an adrenaline junkie? Or are you back on oxy, and that’s why you’re being so reckless?”

Liz regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, and she was overcome with guilt. Ressler looked like she’d slapped him. Unable to take the words back and not wanting to face the consequences, Liz picked up her papers and quickly moved past him, heading over to one of the communal desks outside.

He was immediately behind her again, his presence filling up her vision until she was forced to turn and look at him, to see the anger glittering in his eyes. “I’ve been sober for over five years,” he growled, his breath hot on her cheek. “And there’s not a force on this planet that could get me to throw that away.” Liz refused to break eye contact, forcing herself to keep looking at him. “Now how about you explain why you’re so intent on calling the whole thing off. What is it about this case that has you so scared?”

“I am not scared,” Liz snarled, glaring up at him. “I just think at least one of us should be concerned for your well-being, since you obviously couldn’t care less.”

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Tell me the truth Keen. Why don’t you want me to do this?”

They were so close together their toes were touching, and Liz grappled for an answer that wouldn’t give away anything. Because if you die I’ll probably never be happy again, because you’re my partner and my friend and I need you in my life, because the thought of anything happening to you is enough to suck all the light out of my world forever. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” Ressler argued. “What aren’t you telling me Liz?”

It was the sound of him saying her name that finished her. Keen was formal and business, it was hour long stake-outs in SUVs and voices shouting over coms. But Liz was soft and gentle and intimate, even when Ressler was as angry as he was right now, the sound of it leaving his mouth sending sparks throughout her nervous system.

“God Ress,” said Liz, helpless, and placed her hands on his face to drag him down and kiss him.

Ressler’s FBI instincts were good for more than just active shooter situations, his arms immediately went around her, hands splaying out on the small of her back to draw her up into him. Pure sunshine flooded Liz’s veins as her hands moved around his head to feel the hair at the back of his head, right above the sensitive nape of his neck. She bit down on his lower lip and Ressler made a sound that just about undid her.

But suddenly he was grabbing her by the elbows, holding her in place as he stepped back. Liz blinked, struggling to regain her thoughts. “This is a horrible idea,” Ressler breathed, his hands warm even through her jacket.

“Would it really be so awful though?” Liz refused to let him go when she had him so close.

Ressler shook his head, looking pained. “We work together, both of us have too much going on right now, there’s this whole business with Reddington –”

“Stop making excuses,” Liz snapped, her entire body alive in a way it never had been before. “Do you want this or not?”

Ressler didn’t answer, just stared at her, and then his hand left her arm and moved up to her mouth. Liz didn’t breathe as his finger slowly traced her lips, going weak in the knees. “I’ve wanted you for years,” he whispered, and there was a quiet aching in his voice that sent desire coursing through her.

Liz reached up to grab his hand, interlacing their fingers together. “Then take me.”

Ressler stared at her, as though he couldn’t comprehend the words she’d just said. Then a devilish grin bloomed on his face, and he kissed her again.

Liz groaned into his mouth, hands grabbing onto his suit to tug him back towards her. His fingers twisted themselves into her hair, gripping tightly, each pull lighting a new fire inside her. But then he let go and she found herself losing her own grip as Ressler shrugged off his jacket.

Liz broke away from the kiss, breathing hard, reaching for the knot on his tie. Impatient and needy, she found herself trembling a bit as she tore the strip of fabric off and got to work on his buttons, already leaning forward to kiss him again.

Ressler’s own hands brushed against hers, and she realized they were both trying to take his shirt off at the same time. A giggle bubbled out of her, and she felt Ressler smile against her lips before finishing the shirt. As she pushed off her own jacket his fingers landed on the buckle of her belt and warmth immediately pooled between her legs, and it intensified as he moved away from her mouth onto her neck. Liz’s eyes rolled back in her head as Ressler’s lips attached themselves to her pulse point and he sucked hard.

Liz grabbed at his shoulders, struggling to keep herself standing as he finished undoing her pants and started working on his own, his tongue drawing patterns on her neck as he did so. “Ressler,” Liz moaned, and even she could hear the desperation in her voice. If this were anyone else she would’ve been embarrassed by how obvious it was, but she felt no shame in letting Ressler see how capable he was of destroying her.

The sound of her saying his name that way seemed to spur something in her partner, because he turned them around, and momentarily stopped working miracles with his mouth to break away and sweep everything off the desk. Liz couldn’t help her laugh, seeing where he was going and kicked off her shoes as Ressler turned back and placed his hands on her waist, lifting her on top of the table like she weighed nothing. Once she was seated she laid down and lifted her hips, letting Ressler tug her pants the rest of the way down her legs. The surface was cold beneath her bare thighs, and Liz smiled as she sat up and threaded her fingers back around his neck, before common sense came knocking and she hesitated, not letting herself start to kiss him again just yet. “Do you have protection,” she asked, and even though her voice was quiet it seemed to carry in the empty space around them.

Ressler nodded, tugging off the tank top that had been beneath his button-down to reveal a glorious expanse of scarred and muscled torso. “Wallet. Back pocket.” He didn’t say anything else before once more joining their lips together.

Liz lost herself in the kiss, in the feeling of his mouth on hers, his strong hands sending delicious shivers through her body as they slid beneath the hem of her shirt to press flat on her back. She could feel the calluses on each of his fingers if she focused, each one proof of the years he’d spent serving their country.

Then his hands moved back down to the hem of her shirt, and he tugged upwards, his mouth leaving hers as the top came over her head. She expected him to immediately start kissing her again, and was disappointed when he didn’t. Instead, he simply stared at her, mouth slightly open. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she insisted, trying to kiss him again.

But Ressler’s hands on her shoulders held her back and he shook his head. “Just give me a minute to look at you,” he asked, and she could hear the lust in his voice. On the slim off-chance that he’d been waiting for this as long as she had, Liz reluctantly complied, even though every cell in her body was screaming to get him as close to her as humanly possible.

His hands went to her back, fingers undoing the clasp of her bra with a certainty that was somehow sexy. He slid the straps down her arms, and at the sight of her his face suddenly resembled someone who’d just been hit on the head. Ressler blinked, looking slightly dazed, as though awakening from a deep sleep. “I’ve imagined this so many times,” he breathed, hands coming up to cup her breasts.

Liz came apart beneath his touch, but she maintained enough mental clarity to smile at him daringly. “Special Agent Donald Ressler,” she teased. “Are you telling me you’ve been fantasizing about screwing your partner? That’s not very Boy Scout of you.”

Ressler chuckled, a low, soft noise that made her go light-headed. “Neither is fucking my partner on a Post Office desk,” he answered. “But I think I’ll get over it.”

Before she could make any more smart comments he slid his wallet out of his pocket and placed it next to her, and kissed her before pulling his pants off. Ressler placed his hands under Liz’s knees and drew her to the edge of the table, and she ran curious hands over his chest, leaning forward to kiss each of his scars. His grip tightened on her legs and Liz bent them around so that her feet were gripping his thighs, and as she kept focusing on moving her lips across every part of his chest she let her fingers dip beneath the waistline of his boxers and wrapped her hand around him.

Ressler gasped out a curse, his head leaning into her, and Liz smiled, leaning back and sighing in pleasure as his own hands once more sought out her breasts in revenge, massaging circles into them as she pulled down his underwear and reached for the wallet.

Once he was ready, Liz shimmied her own purple panties off and cried out as Ressler thrust into her. The sound echoed in the large room, and a giddy recklessness gripped her. With his next thrust, Liz arched her back into him and yelled his name, letting herself be as loud as she liked until he kissed her and she came with his lips on her own.

Unwilling to be the only one to reach the end, Liz blinked through the final stages of orgasm and reached her hand between them and stroked.

One of Ressler’s hands left her legs and buried itself in her hair as he moaned and dropped his head to her neck. “Christ Liz,” he gasped, and as her hand kept working he took the hint and resumed his movements, hips rocking back and forth until his own finish.

After it was over, they were clutching each other, chests heaving, both not wanting to release the other. But at some point the air conditioner switched on and Liz laughed, realizing they would have to put their clothes back on. She pointed this out to Ressler, who had the nerve to look disappointed and mumble clothes were overrated, before gently separating himself from her.

There was a warm, fuzzy feeling in Liz’s stomach as she pulled her pants back on. When she was fully dressed, she picked up the classified data Ressler had swept off the table and restacked it, and Ressler helped once he was finished with his own clothes.

They grabbed their things and headed for the elevator, and Liz was unable to keep the smile from her face, the very air between them seeming to snap with electricity. Ressler hit the button to take them up and immediately had her up against the wall, lips pressed against hers. Liz wrapped her arms around his neck, closing her eyes and letting bliss take over as she kissed him back.

***

Upon entering the Post Office the next morning, Liz knew immediately she’d never be able to look at the table the same way again. Every time she let her thoughts wander while near it, her head was immediately filled with images of Ressler as he drove into her, her skin aching with the memory of where phantom fingers pressed on her legs and hips and breasts.

She’d gotten there early, purely in case of this potential scenario, and used the spare time to sequester herself away in her office, forcing her thoughts to maintain a PG rating.

Eventually she had enough faith in her self-control to head back out, and when she did she headed over to where Aram was typing away on a computer. He nearly fell out of his seat when he saw her.

“A-agent Keen! How nice to see you, very nice, it’s very nice to see you. How’s, how’s things? You things? How are your things and also you?”

Liz raised her eyebrows. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. You all right Aram? You seem jumpier than normal.”

Aram stuttered so hard he sneezed, and then slid off his chair, muttering something about having his pants on backwards, and slinked away. Utterly confused by this bizarre display, Liz didn’t notice Ressler until he was right behind her.

“Hey Liz.”

Her toes curled and she bit her lip, leaning back into him. “Hey yourself.”

His hands briefly danced around her waist before he stepped forward so he was next to her, lest anyone see and get suspicious. They’d agreed last night to keep things quiet for a little while, see how things played out before going through the official minutiae like telling HR.

She looked up at him, ordering herself to be calm. “You ready for the op?”

Ressler nodded, looking slightly smug and a little bit suggestive. “I think the real question is, are you ready. Because if you’re still stressed about my safety, I’m pretty sure there’s an empty room down the hall.”

Liz felt her body temperature rise to dangerous levels, and had to take a step back to get some fresh air. “You make a very tempting offer, but I have a counter proposal.”

He grinned. “Do tell.”

Liz pretended to consider. “My apartment, tonight at 8. I can order pizza and you and I can have some much-needed alone time.”

Ressler’s expression shifted into one that was slightly more playful. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll see you then.”

Suddenly, Aram popped up behind them.

“Okay. So. I really didn’t want to say anything, but I feel like I should say something, but I also still don’t want to so if you also don’t want me to feel free to stop me.”

Liz frowned in confusion, and from the look on her partner’s face she wasn’t the only one. “Aram, what are you talking about?” Ressler demanded.

Wearing the face of someone who appeared as though he wished he could crawl into a hole and never come back out, Aram took a deep breath. “You know how we have security cameras right? Well last night, I couldn’t find my notebook and I thought I might’ve left it on my desk, but I didn’t want to come all the way back if I hadn’t but I also didn’t want to waste time looking for it if I actually had forgotten it –”

“Aram, can you get to the point?” Liz asked.

Aram nodded. “Right. The point. The point that I was getting to. The point was that I decided to see if I could see it on my desk by checking the security cameras and so I checked them on my tablet, but when I did that, I saw something I probably shouldn’t have and would very much like to forget.”

A rather horrible feeling started to grow in Liz’s stomach, and from the look on Ressler’s face he had the same thought. She coughed. “You mean, you saw us, um.”

“Having a very private moment on top of a desk, yes I did. I mean, I didn’t watch or anything, but I thought you might want to know in case you forgot about the security cameras or –”

“Duly noted, Aram, thank you for the information,” Ressler interrupted.

Looking like death would be a welcome release, Aram nodded and scurried off. As soon as he was out of sight Liz burst out laughing. “I think we may have scarred him for life,” she muttered, trying to swallow down her amusement.

Ressler shook his head, his panicked irritation starting to give way to resignation.

Liz grinned, before becoming more serious. “But Ressler?” He set his attention firmly on Liz, and she hesitated before plunging ahead. “At least promise me you’ll be careful today.”

He gave her a soft smile, before adding a wink. “I’ll even pinky swear it if you want me to.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Ressler laughed and the sound of it made her want to rip his clothes off and take him right there on another table, audience be damned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone suggested I continue the fic after the mission and with Reddington finding out, so I continued the fic and ignored the other suggestions because I'm a horrible person. So basically this is more case stuff (different case than chapter 1) with a nice fun bit of Liz and Ressler sneaking around. It has significantly more plot than I planned on (which was none) but whatever, and sexy timez. xoxo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me feedback. and also prompts.

Liz’s mouth fell open, her fingers buried in Ressler’s hair as his head moved between her thighs. Her other hand scrabbled against her sheets, searching for something to hold onto as she fell deeper into the throes of pleasure under Ressler’s extremely capable mouth.

Without any warning his fingers joined in and Liz gave an involuntary cry, hips bucking up as she finished.

When she managed to open her eyes, Liz looked over to see Ressler was now lying next to her, looking incredibly smug. She laughed. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He raised a pair of infuriating eyebrows. “Make me.”

Still struggling to catch her breath, Liz grinned, and leaned over to kiss him. Ressler responded with enthusiasm, his hands running along the naked skin of her back, giving her goosebumps.

“Elizabeth!”

Liz bolted up at a knocking on the door, and Ressler turned three shades whiter. She held a finger to her lips and immediately leapt out of the bed, quickly throwing on clothes as Ressler dragged on his boxers. Another series of knocks. “Elizabeth? Are you in there?”

She turned to the mirror, frantically trying to comb her hair into some semblance of order. “Just a second!” Liz called back, grateful when her voice didn’t crack.

Still mostly unclothed, Ressler moved around so that he was flat against the wall next to her door. Liz threw him a last look before ducking outside her room, shutting the door most but not all of the way.

Forcing herself to breathe calmly, Liz slowly walked up to her front door, hoping her cheeks didn’t look too pink. She silently counted to three before opening it, reorganizing her face into an expression of tired surprise. “Reddington, what are you doing here?”

“Lizzie!” Reddington beamed upon seeing her, taking off his hat as he strode inside, Dembe right behind him. Liz couldn’t help glancing towards her bedroom as she shut the door, reminding herself that he couldn’t possibly know Ressler was inside. They’d driven back to her apartment from the Post Office together, so his car wasn’t in her building parking lot, their Italian dinner delivery had already been cleared away, and Ressler was securely hidden in her bedroom. There was nothing in her apartment to suggest more than one person had been present before Reddington’s impromptu arrival. “I have a case.”

She calmly walked over, folding her arms. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Red nodded. “I understand that, but I’m afraid it’s quite urgent, and time is of the essence.”

Liz sat down in a chair, heart hammering a mile a minute despite her relief at getting an explanation for his appearance. “I’m waiting.”

“Have you ever heard of the Weatherman?”

Liz listened carefully as Reddington explained their new Blacklister. A man who was rumored to have moles in every intelligence agency on the American continents, not to mention a good number of European ones. With their steady stream of information, he was supposedly able to predict moves against his client’s businesses with the accuracy of a very skilled weatherman.

Liz tilted her head when he finished. “Okay, that’s great, but why the urgency?”

“So glad you asked.” The way Reddington smiled when he said it made Liz actually believe him. “The rumor mill says he’s in DC looking to turn another FBI agent, and since he’s never in one location for more than forty-eight hours, we have a very limited window of time within which to catch him.”

Liz stood as she finished processing the information. “Alright, I’ll call Cooper and the others and we’ll meet you at the Post Office.”

Reddington said a cheerful goodbye, and Dembe gave her a nod. Once they were out the door, she immediately dashed back into her bedroom, unable to hold back a smile when she saw Ressler sitting on her unmade bed, buttoning up his shirt. “Tell me Liz, what kind of a name is ‘the Weatherman’?” Ressler asked.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Just put your pants on,” she quipped, reaching for her phone to call Cooper.

***

When they reached the black site, Liz threw the car in park, unbuckled, and climbed over the center console to straddle her partner. Ressler, despite looking a bit surprised, took it in stride, his hands coming up to grab her hips. “Can’t get enough of me I see,” he teased.

Annoyed that he was right, Liz decided to just kiss him instead of try and disagree. She ran her fingers through his short hair, loving the way it bristled against her palms, as Ressler ran his own hands up beneath her shirt, fiddling with the clasp of her bra. “Shouldn’t we get inside,” he panted, before using his mouth for better things than talking by placing kisses on her jaw.

She gently moaned, but shook her head. “Cooper and Aram were both asleep when I called, they won’t be here for another ten minutes at least. And you know how Reddington likes to make dramatic entrances.”

Ressler made a sound of agreement, before moving down lower to kiss the juncture between her neck and shoulder, right where he knew it drove her crazy. Liz writhed in his lap, feeling the evidence of how turned on he was press against her thigh. After almost two months of sneaking around, he knew her body better than anyone ever had before, knew all the ways to make her squirm and gasp. She loved him for it, almost as much as she’d loved figuring out his own pressure points, all the little ways to make him lose control.

She used one of them now, leaning her head forward to kiss right beneath his ear, before biting down hard.

Ressler jerked up beneath her. “Damn it Liz,” he choked out. Liz brought her hand up to his face, gently stroking her thumb against his cheek as she licked over the abused skin. If they had more time, she would’ve taken off his belt and used her hands to stroke different parts of him, but they had a case to work.

After a few more minutes, Liz reluctantly returned to her seat, pulling down the mirror to make sure her lips didn’t look too swollen. Ressler’s head fell back, and she saw with some satisfaction that he was breathing hard. Once he was able to walk comfortably, they got out of the car and headed inside. There were only a few other people at first, but Cooper and Aram showed up soon after, within a couple minutes of each other.

Liz briefed the Task Force on the new time-sensitive case, while Ressler did a good job of pretending like he hadn’t already heard everything she was saying. When she finished, Reddington and Dembe walked out of the elevator.

“Do we have any idea who the FBI agent is?” Cooper asked, the question directed towards the room at large.

It was Reddington who answered. “Not a clue.”

Cooper was not pleased. “Do we have any idea who this Weatherman is?”

“Absolutely none.”

Reddington didn’t look remotely perturbed at this admission. Cooper, however, seemed ready to blow a gasket. “If we don’t know who he is, or who he’s targeting, how exactly are we supposed to catch him?”

“Process of elimination, my dear Harold.” Red gave them all a superior look that said it should’ve been obvious. “I may not know who he’s planning to target, but I know the criteria he uses, and we know it’s happening here in DC.”

“Criteria? What criteria?” Aram asked.

Red’s demeanor immediately switched over to one of business. “In order to flip agents with as high a success rate as the Weatherman’s, one must have a certain type of people to target. I happen to be aware of his criteria. With the FBI, he always targets new graduates, he never touches them before they’ve left Quantico. But he also doesn’t want to wait too long, lest they gain a sense of camaraderie and loyalty with their coworkers. He typically approaches them between one to eight weeks of their start at the Bureau.”

Aram started typing. “Pulling up all agents in the DC area who joined up in the last two months.”

Red kept going. “He likes to get them younger, never anyone above thirty. People in their twenties tend to have more malleable belief systems.”

“Eliminating everyone over the age of thirty,” Aram muttered.

“He always goes for the top ten percent of the class, the ones who will rise the quickest and get him the most information the fastest. And finally, get rid of all those with no immediate family.”

Aram kept typing, muttering to himself. “Alright, the last Quantico class had a little under three hundred graduates, and about half of those went to the FBI. Ninety-six of them were under thirty, and twelve of them were in the top fifteen of their class. Eleven have immediate family members, including spouses and kids. Of those eleven, only three are here in DC.”

Reddington clapped his hands together, looking pleased. “And there you have it. Within the next two days, one of those three promising agents is going to become the Weatherman’s newest informant.”

Aram hit a couple more keys, and the agents faces went up on the projection screen. Liz read out their names. “Rita Parker, Leonardo Hook, and Saul Merrill.”

Cooper pushed his glasses up, filled with renewed direction. “Keen, you and Ressler go stake out Agent Hook. I’ll get local police on Parker and Merrill. By the time you arrive, we should hopefully have warrants for their phones and computers. The second this Weatherman makes contact, I want to know about it.”

***

Liz and Ressler had spent the better part of the evening watching Hook’s apartment. He lived with his sister, brother-in-law, and his two year old nephew. The warrants had come in five hours ago at around three in the morning, and so as they sat parked outside the local FBI field office, Ressler had his computer open, periodically refreshing Hook’s email.

“What do you think are the odds he makes contact with our guy?” Ressler asked, as Liz eyed the building entrance.

“One in three,” she answered, completely serious.

She could see him look over at her and couldn’t stop her lips from twitching upwards, and he lightly shoved her shoulder. “Come on, I’m serious. He graduated sixth in his class at Quantico, nothing but glowing remarks from all his teachers, his parents are both alive and healthy in Reno, Nevada. He’s got plenty to lose, and no reason to turn.”

Liz shrugged. “Well he might not do it willingly. If it were me, I’d go after his sister and nephew. Use them to blackmail him into giving me information, and then threaten to turn him in if he doesn’t keep being helpful.”

Ressler nodded, looking like he was taking her seriously. “But if that’s the case, why go after Hook and not one of the others? Parker’s married, and Merrill’s got a daughter. Seems like they’d be more susceptible to blackmail.”

Liz and Ressler went back and forth for a couple more hours, only stopping when Ressler left the car to go grab lunch. Liz was eating a chicken burrito when an instant message appeared on Hook’s screen, telling him to go outside. Liz immediately set her food aside, tapping Ressler on the elbow. He put down his drink and turned the screen brightness up. Hook typed back, asking who was talking to him.

The messenger’s ID was blocked, but their message came back quickly. ‘If you want your sister and her family to live, grab your phone and go outside.’

Ressler looked over at her as Hook shut down his computer, and turned on his coms. “Hey Cooper, I think the Weatherman may have just made contact with Hook.”

A few seconds later, Hook left the building, and his phone started ringing. Liz answered the cloned version on her cell.

The conversation went roughly how Liz had predicted. The Weatherman demanded Agent Hook get him information about a raid on the Escabedo drug cartel later that day. Hook tried to refuse, but eventually caved under the threat of harm coming to his family.

Ressler sighed as Hook hung up the phone and went back inside. “Don’t say I told you so,” he warned.

Liz laughed softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

After Cooper quietly brought Hook’s family into protective custody at the Post Office, Liz and Ressler approached him. They explained his sister, brother-in-law, and nephew were safe, and told him to message the Weatherman with information about the Escabedo raid. Liz had Aram tip off the agents that they would be expected, and they moved the raid up by two hours.

When a furious Weatherman once again called Hook, Aram traced the call, and Liz and Ressler drove down to his motel room, backup en route. The plan was to arrest the Weatherman and interrogate him to find out who his informants were, and his criminal contacts.

They reached his room, and Ressler pounded on the door, announcing themselves as FBI agents and demanding he open up. There was no response, and Liz and Ressler drew their weapons. She expected Ressler to kick the door open, and for them to chase him out the window.

Instead she saw her partner get shot.

The gunshot was so unexpected it took her a second to realize she’d even heard it. Then Ressler was stumbling backwards and falling to the floor, his white shirt blooming red with blood.

“RESSLER!” Liz yelled, dropping to her knees. She placed a hand on his back, trying to determine if the shot had been through and through, before pressing down on the wound. Aram was frantic in her ear, asking what was wrong. “Aram, Ressler’s been shot, send an ambulance.”

“What? Ressler’s been shot? Is he okay? What happened?”

“ARAM,” Liz screamed, cutting him off. Ressler’s blood was soaking into her hands. “AMBULANCE.”

“Ambulance, right, on it!”

Liz turned her focus back to Ressler, who was blinking up at her slowly. “Relax Keen,” he gasped. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

A laugh that was mostly hysteria burst out of her lips. “Liar,” she accused, desperately trying to stem the blood flow.

“Paramedics are less than four minutes out,” Aram announced.

Liz didn’t bother responding, all her energy devoted to making sure Ressler didn’t bleed out on the ground. “Come on Ress, stay with me,” she muttered, wiping her hair out of her face. Her hands were dripping blood, she could feel some of it smear across her ear.

Ressler coughed, and Liz felt fear spike through her. What if something had punctured his lung? “Ressler, I need you to talk to me. Concentrate on my voice, and just talk to me, can you do that?” She knew she sounded frantic, but she didn’t care.

Ressler coughed again, but nodded. “Talk about what?”

“Anything,” she said, fighting back panic as she felt his blood start to pool beneath her knees. “Just stay awake.”

His eyes raked over her, and a small smile formed on his mouth. “God I love your hair,” he muttered. He tried to raise a hand, but it immediately dropped back to the ground. “I remember when you went blonde, and it still looked amazing. Hell, you could’ve dyed it green and you would’ve looked good.”

Liz’s eyes started stinging, but she refused to acknowledge it. “I only dyed my hair because I was a terrorist on the run.”

“Alleged terrorist,” Ressler corrected her, coughing again. “I always knew you’d been framed.”

Liz pursed her lips, not liking how pale he looked. “Aram, what’s the clock on that ambulance?” she demanded.

“About two minutes.”

Liz pressed down harder on Ressler’s stomach, feeling blood pulse out with each breath he took. “Come on, stay with me. Medics are almost here.”

Ressler’s eyes had a glassy unfocused look, but he blinked at the sound of her voice. “Right, medics,” he murmured. “Tell me, do you think you’d ever get dressed up in a nurse’s uniform for me?”

Another laugh escaped from her, and Liz cleared her throat. “How is it you’ve been shot and you’re still making me laugh?”

“I guess I missed my true calling as a stand-up comedian,” Ressler grunted, bringing his hands up to grab her wrists.

Sirens started sounding in the distance, growing louder by the second. Liz gave him what she hoped was a comforting smile. “You hear that? You just have to hang on for a little while longer.”

Ressler drew in a shaky breath, his eyes drifting upwards. “Ressler,” Liz snapped. “If you die on me I will never forgive you.” He didn’t respond, and Liz’s vision nearly whited out. “Ressler, did you hear me?” She gripped his chin, leaving red fingerprints on his skin. “You are not allowed to die today, I won’t allow it.”

He made a faint sound, and she realized it was a laugh. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled, eyes once again finding hers. “Chaplin’s.”

Liz frowned, thinking she must’ve misheard as she moved her hand back to his midsection. “What?”

Another cough. “Temari Chaplin’s. Japanese place. We should go. A real date, not just takeout.”

Liz realized she’d started crying as the ambulance turned the corner and drove up. “That sounds amazing. If you survive this, I promise we can go to whatever restaurant you want.”

“Imma hold ‘ou to that.” His words were painfully sluggish as EMTs ran up.

They forced Liz away from him, and moved Ressler onto a stretcher, carrying him into the ambulance. She sprinted to her car, switching on the sirens, desperate to follow them.

When they reached George Washington Hospital about a dozen blocks away, Liz jumped out of the car, not caring if it got towed. She raced in after them, her legs threatening to give out when she saw him lifted out of the ambulance. They’d placed a bag valve over his mouth and were using it to help him breathe. She ran up to the paramedics.

“How is he?” They ignored her, heading inside, yelling medical jibber-jabber at each other. “Please, he’s my partner, is he going to be all right?” she asked again, fighting to keep a sob out of her voice.

One of the nurses finally came to her. “It’s too soon to tell, we’ll know more once we get him into surgery.” She tried to keep following, but the nurse stopped her. “I’m sorry, but to pass beyond this point you have to be sterilized. I can take you to our waiting room.”

Numb, Liz allowed herself to be lead away, not bothering to acknowledge the nurse’s smile as she left. She found the nearest chair and sank into it, staring at her hands in morbid fascination. Even her forearms was painted in red.

“Liz!”

She blinked, unsure of how long it’d been. Aram and Cooper were walking towards her, both looking anxious. “Keen, how is Agent Ressler?” Cooper asked, concern in his tone.

Liz shook her head, a dull pounding in her ears. “Still in surgery.” Her voice sounded foreign. “There was so much blood…”

Aram sat down next to her, clearly shocked, but trying for a brave face. “Ressler’s tough, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Still staring at the blood on her arms, the room seemed to shrink down around Liz, and she knew with absolute clarity that if she didn’t get her partner’s blood off her arms she would pass out.

She stood. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she muttered, almost tripping as she walked out, following the signs until she found the women’s room. She placed a stopper beneath the door so no one else could come in, and trudged over to the sink, taking a number of breaths before daring to look in the mirror.

Her eyes were hollow and dead-looking, and there was a streak of dried blood stretching from her cheekbone to her ear. Desperate, she turned the taps on to full force, shrugged off her jacket and plunged her hands beneath the streams, the water immediately turning pink. Liz furiously scrubbed at her skin, Ressler’s blood flaking off into the sink. The blood was everywhere, she was practically caked in it up to her elbows; it was buried beneath her fingernails. Liz realized she was crying again, and knelt down, pressing her face into her upper arm to muffle the sounds. She cried until there were no more tears left in her body, and she felt empty and wrung dry when she finally stopped.

Trying to remember how to breathe normally, Liz stood on numb legs, and pumped soap into her hands, lathering it everywhere. She didn’t stop scrubbing until the water ran clear, and then she splashed it on her face, scratching off the last bloody streak. Eventually, she trusted herself to look in a mirror again, the tension leaving her jaw when her reflection was unbloodied. Tired, and distraught looking maybe, but no blood anywhere above the waist. There was nothing she could do about her jeans, and her wrists and hands had a faint red tint, but as long as she didn’t look at them she could ignore it. She threw the blood-stained jacket in the trash can on her way out, knowing she’d never have worn it again anyway.

The next few hours were among the most stressful of Liz’s entire life. Her bare arms were cold in the air conditioned waiting room, and her and Aram and Cooper hardly even spoke to each other. More than once, she thought about trying Reddington, but each time she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone. Her muscles seemed to have disconnected from her brain.

When a surgeon in scrubs entered and said Ressler’s name, Liz’s heart crawled into her throat as she stood up, Aram and Cooper behind her.

“He’s stable.”

Liz’s knees actually buckled in relief, and she had to lean on Aram for support as the doctor kept talking. “He’s currently in the ICU, and the sedatives should wear off soon, but he’ll still be resting for a couple more hours at least. The bullet missed all his major organs and arteries, but there was still significant internal damage. Thankfully, we expect him to make a full recovery, and he should be able to go home within a week.”

“Can I see him?” Liz requested, not bothering to try and hide her desperation.

The doctor was reluctant, saying Ressler wouldn’t be awake for hours and there was no point, but he caved when she threatened to arrest him to Cooper’s dismay. They followed him up to the ICU, where Ressler was lying unconscious in a bed, hooked up to nearly half a dozen machines. Liz grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to him, wanting to grab his hand and beg him to wake up, but aware that she couldn’t with Cooper standing right behind her. Thankfully the other two men left after a couple moments, making Liz promise to call them once he woke up. The second they were gone she grabbed her partner’s hand, laced their fingers together and brought their joined hands up to press against her cheek.

Liz closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of his pulse beneath her fingers, letting the steady beeping of the machines lull her into complacency.

“Hello Elizabeth.”

Liz jumped with surprise, dropping Ressler’s hand and spinning around, blinking away her exhaustion. Dembe was keeping watch outside the door and Reddington was standing behind her, watching Ressler with what looked like sadness. She cleared her throat. “Hey.” Her voice came out a bit croaky.

Reddington walked over to place a hand on his shoulder, and she let herself take comfort from the touch. “How is our Donald looking? I hear he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

Liz nodded. “Who told you?”

“Aram called me as soon as it happened.” Of course. “I would’ve come sooner, but I felt I owed the Weatherman a visit on behalf of dear Ressler here.”

Liz felt a bare ripple of surprise. “You found him?”

Red shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard. He came looking for me, seeking safe passage out of the country. I turned him over to my dear friend Teddy Brimley instead. I’m sure Cooper will be pleased to find a list of all compromised agents awaiting him on his desk, and as for the Weatherman? Well, who can really say what happened to him.”

Liz snorted, savage satisfaction ripping through her. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Such a shame,” Reddington tutted. He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze. “Unfortunately I must depart, but call me when he wakes up won’t you?”

Liz assured him she would call, and Reddington left. The door shut behind him, but Liz was already once again focused on Ressler. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. Nearly two months ago, she and Ressler had got together for the first time when he’d participated in a particularly dangerous undercover op, and she’d been furious at him for going through with it. Ressler had demanded to know why she was so afraid, and they’d ended up having sex on a Post Office desk. The job had ended up going off without a hitch, but now here they were, on what should’ve been a relatively low-risk operation, with Ressler lucky to be alive.

Still exhausted, Liz kicked off her shoes and climbed up into the bed, sliding under the covers. She took Ressler’s hand back in her own and placed them on his chest, just over his beating heart. She didn’t even try to keep her eyes open for much longer, hoping he’d be in better shape when she awoke.

***

“Much as I enjoy having you this close to me, I’m fairly certain these beds were not built for two people.”

Liz’s eyes shot open, and she sat up as carefully as she could, staring down at an amused looking Ressler.

She laughed, an actual joyful laugh, and leaned down to kiss him. One of Ressler’s hands came up to rest on her thigh, and when they broke apart she pressed her forehead to his, unable to stop smiling. “It’s about time, sleeping beauty,” she teased.

Ressler looked defensive. “I feel like getting shot in the ribs is a satisfactory precursor to having a bit of a lie in.”

Liz grinned, checking her watch. “Since when is a bit of a lie in eighth hours? I have to call Red and the others, let them know you’re awake.”

She was already reaching for her pocket, but Ressler’s hand on her wrist stopped her. “Or, you could wait to call them, and just lay here for a little bit.”

Liz raised her eyebrows. “I thought these hospital beds weren’t built for two people,” she joked.

With a bit of effort, Ressler managed to wrap his arm around Liz’s shoulders and draw her head back down to his chest, his fingers gently running through her hair. “I’m very adaptive,” he assured her, his chest rumbling as he spoke. Liz ‘hmmed’ in agreement, just relieved he was finally awake. “You know if memory serves, you promised to let me take you to a Japanese restaurant once all this was over.”

Liz groaned. “Does it really have to be Japanese?” she grumbled.

“It absolutely does,” Ressler insisted.

“I don’t even like sushi.”

“We don’t have to get sushi.” She could almost hear the eye roll in his voice. “The beauty of Japanese food Liz, is that it’s not limited to the one specific dish you cannot stand.”

“Fine.” She raised her head to glare at him. “But if any kind of raw fish comes anywhere near our table, I’m dumping you for Dembe.”

He grinned. “Isn’t Dembe literally a grandfather?”

Liz shrugged. “So he’s a family man, big deal.”

Ressler laughed, and immediately winced, his other hand going to his ribs. “Don’t make me laugh,” he warned.

Liz grimaced. “My bad.”

She placed her head back on his chest, and felt herself relax as his fingers ran through her hair once more. “So what happened with the Weatherman?”

Liz weighed her answer carefully. “Well, we got a list of the agents he’d turned, but we’re not entirely sure where he ended up.”

He sighed. “Let me guess, Reddington.”

“He heard you got shot and took matters into his own hands,” Liz confirmed. “He’s very protective of you, you know.”

Ressler made a derisive noise. “Great, just what I always wanted. My own guardian devil.”

“Look on the bright side, he’s a lot more effective than a guardian angel.”

Another laugh, followed by a wince. “I thought I said not to make me laugh.”

“I’m sorry!”

***

Three weeks later, Ressler had an entirely clean bill of health, and Liz had just finished undergoing her own form of torture called ‘authentic Japanese cuisine’. It had been a nice restaurant, so she’d put on a cute black dress she’d bought on sale a couple months ago, and worn one of her pinker shades of lipstick.

She had her arm through Ressler’s as they left the building, head on his shoulder. “I didn’t say it was good, I said it wasn’t awful,” she pointed out. “There’s a difference.”

Ressler laughed, and her smile widened when he didn’t wince. “Admit it, Liz. You had a nice time.”

She turned up her nose. “I admit nothing,” she said loftily.

“Alright smartass, if it was so awful you can pick the next restaurant. Just not Greek.”

Liz pursed her lips, fighting back a grin. “And what happens if I pick Greek anyway?

“I’ll leave you for Dembe.”

Liz laughed so hard she choked, and they kept up their banter all the way to the car, and the entire drive back to her place.

When they entered her apartment and Liz shut the door behind them, Ressler walked over towards her living room, not noticing she didn’t follow. “I’m just saying, if Hans Christian Andersen can have a mental breakdown on Charles Dickens’ lawn, it’s not too much of a stretch to think he was using some kind of drug. Unless you really think he was just that distraught.”

He finally turned, realizing Liz was still leaning against the door. Ressler frowned, confused. “What?”

Liz bit her lip and smiled, a teasing, sultry smile. “Ressler, do you know what day it is?”

Looking a bit lost, Ressler blinked before answering. “It’s the twenty-sixth. Why?”

Liz made an exaggerated show of checking her watch, before looking back up at him through her lashes. “Because you have now been cleared for sexual activity for sixteen hours.” She slowly walked over to her partner as understanding dawned on his face. “And believe it or not, I don’t feel like waiting any longer.”

Ressler grinned, his hands going around her waist as he drew her in for a kiss.

Liz kicked off her shoes, but they hardly had any heel so it didn’t make much difference. She was glad he wasn’t wearing a tie, the lack of one made it so much easier to undress him as she practically ripped off his jacket.

He smiled against her lips. “Eager are we,” he murmured, hands going to her zipper.

She stepped away from his embrace, putting her hands firmly on his chest. His face, addled with desire, shifted to confusion as she gave him a coy smile. Without saying a word, Liz walked forward, pushing Ressler towards her bedroom, giving him a shove when they entered. She folded her arms expectantly. “Take off your clothes.”

Ressler blinked, looking a bit stunned. “What?”

Liz raised her eyebrows. “Did I stutter?”

He laughed, but she could hear the nervous anticipation. Ressler’s hands came up and he began to unbutton his shirt, one at a time, in agonizing slowness. Liz licked her lips, letting her grin become slightly predatory.

Ressler shrugged off the shirt, and when she tilted her head expectantly, continued on to his belt. The small hiss of leather on fabric as he drew it off made her fingers begin to tingle. He toed off his shoes, and then came the pants, and once he kicked them off Liz walked over. Her hands seemed to have a mind of her own, and so she let them wander over his skin, reveling in the feel of him. It felt like an eternity since she’d last seen him like this, and all she wanted was to fall into bed with him, let him kiss and lick her until she was a disheveled mess, but not tonight. Tonight, Liz had a plan.

She forced her hands to cease their exploration, and shoved him back onto the bed. Liz crawled up after him, forcing Ressler to back up and lay down, moving until her legs were bracketing his hips. She reached down and took his hands in hers, bringing them up above his head, and leaned over to kiss him.

Teasing, feather-light kisses, on his mouth, and cheeks, and eyelids. She could hear his breathing grow ragged, and it set her blood singing in her veins. Liz kept at it, making sure he stayed distracted, so that he didn’t notice the cuffs in her hand until they were around his wrists, pinning him to her headboard. His eyes opened and he looked up at her in surprise. Liz beamed down at him.

“I’m handcuffed to your bed,” Ressler stated. She sensed he was waiting for an explanation.

Liz stroked her fingers down his arm, drawing small circles on his collarbone. She watched him swallow. “Say pretty please if you want me to take them off,” she winked. “If not…” Liz leaned back down and resumed her kisses, each one soft and glancing. Ressler moaned beneath her, flexing his wrists against the cuffs, but they held firm.

Liz slid off of him, and slowly reached around to unzip her dress, pulling it off. Ressler cursed when he saw the matching black lace she wore beneath. “Are you trying to kill me Liz?” he demanded.

She didn’t deign to respond, instead returning to her place atop him, gently rocking her hips as she kissed him some more. Her lips brushed over every inch of skin above his waist, and Liz could feel him growing harder the longer she kept at it.

Without warning, Liz moved down, pulling his boxers off and replacing them with her lips.

“Shit.” Ressler jerked up beneath her, but she pressed her hands to his thighs, holding him down. She kept these kisses as weightless as the others, reveling in how he shook beneath her, not stopping until he finished, at which point she crawled back up his chest, brushing her lips over his.

“Liz,” he gasped out. “Liz, please, just let me touch you, just take these things off and let me touch you.”

Despite the fact that Ressler had never said anything hotter in all the years she’d known him, Liz resisted. “Say pretty please,” she reminded him, keeping her voice soft.

Ressler made a sound that almost sounded like a growl, but kept his mouth shut, his body taut beneath her own.

Taking this as permission to continue, Liz sat up straight, reaching her hands back to unclasp her bra, shrugging it off. Ressler’s eyes followed her every movement with rapt attention, and Liz couldn’t deny she felt a little drunk on the power she had over him.

Once more Liz leaned down, peppering barely-there kisses across his skin. If she squinted, she could see faint outlines of her mouth from the lipstick she was wearing. The thought turned her on, if possible, even more. Now though, Liz shifted to return her mouth to Ressler’s, and he kissed her like he’d been dying in the desert and she was an oasis. His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, begging for entry, and she permitted it, opening her mouth to his. For a little while, she allowed herself this pleasure, pressing her breasts up against him, as they kissed like they might never again have the chance.

As soon as she felt that he was ready though, Liz stopped, drawing back. Ressler tried to follow, but the cuffs drew tight, keeping him where he was, and his head dropped down to the pillows in defeat. Locking her eyes on his own, Liz slowly stripped off the black panties she was wearing, and reached over to her nightstand to grab the familiar plastic square. Keeping her fingers as light as her kisses, Liz rolled it on, and as soon as he was ready, she took him inside her.

Ressler’s eyes rolled up in his head and the muscles in his arms strained against the cuffs, his hips bucking up to meet hers. With her hands on his chest, Liz ground herself against him, riding him, moving in all the ways she knew he loved, not stopping until his entire body seemed to contract, his mouth coming open in a strangled gasp, before he fell still.

At last, she took the cuffs off, but he didn’t move when she did, his chest heaving. Liz stroked a soothing hand across his face, giving him a reassuring smile when he finally looked at her. His voice was raspy when he spoke. “I should consider getting shot more often if this is the end result.”

Liz narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is literally 3:30 in the morning what am I doing with my life


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz and Ressler are sickeningly cute and domestic, and have hot jealous sex in a car. Later they're at a weekend getaway and have more sex and are also cute and there is a case going on so we get to see Angsty ResslerTM and Liz is Supportive and Reddington is annoyingly omnipotent. I had fun writing this but it's probably awful but if you say it's awful I'll reach through your computer screen and scream at a high pitched volume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the final chapter for this fic, but I am still taking prompts in general. I took inspiration from two requests, (Keenler shacking up at a cabin with a blacklister after them and also sultry widow is handsy with Ressler and Liz gets jealous) and also a prompt I saw on tumblr about Ressler relapsing. I can feeeel the canon Keenler creeping closer but right now I’m in a cold dark ficless hell so send me more shit to write you thirsty bitches. xoxo

Liz would be lying if she said she wasn’t keeping a closer eye on Ressler. It had been over two months since he’d added a new gunshot wound to his collection, he’d been back on active duty for about five weeks, and she had yet to see him take a painkiller since leaving the hospital.

She hadn’t seen any signs of withdrawal or a relapse, spending a couple hours on the Internet as a refresher course. She went over the list in her head every time she looked at him. Shakes, sweating, bloodshot eyes, mood swings. As far as Liz could tell he was still sober, but she wasn’t eager to take any chances, going through her medicine cabinet and throwing away everything that wasn’t Tylenol the night he was discharged. She’d also subtly gone through his own apartment, checking behind the mirror and all the drawers and other potential hiding places, while he was asleep one night.

Right now Ressler was in the shower, and Liz was using the opportunity to quickly go through all his pockets and the lining of his coats.

The water turned off and Liz quietly shut the closet door, walking back over to sit down on the bed. She leaned over to pull her pants on, pretending like she hadn’t just been inspecting his wardrobe for opiates. She dressed slowly, so he’d see her when he came out.

A few moments later and Liz heard the bathroom door swing open as she finished pulling her socks on. She turned to see Ressler coming back, hair still wet as he buttoned his shirt up. “Morning,” she greeted.

Ressler grinned at her, leaning over the bed to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Morning.” Her partner was a bit of a grumbler before his morning shower, but now he seemed much more coherent.

Liz stood and walked towards him on socked feet, grabbing a bottle green tie from the closet on her way. Humming a bit under her breath, Liz placed the tie around his popped collar, calmly fastening a Windsor knot. She looked up to see Ressler giving her a bemused smile, and frowned. “What?” she demanded.

But he shook his head, looking smug. “Nothing.”

Liz pursed her lips and twined her fingers through his belt loops, pulling him forwards. “Agent Ressler,” she purred, “tell me now, before I put that tie of yours to other, better uses, and make us both late for work.”

She could see him swallow thickly as his formidable will crumbled beneath her hands. “I like having you here.”

Liz raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Here in your apartment?”

He traced his hands up her shoulders. “In my apartment, in my arms,” he ducked his head down to press his lips to her ear and whisper, “in my bed.”

Liz gave an involuntary shiver, closing her eyes as his mouth brushed her neck. She was accustomed to Ressler being one hundred and two percent business, and was still getting used to unveiling this playful, seductive side of him. Liz hadn’t even known Ressler could be seductive, but supposed she ought to have considering he’d once been engaged. The thought made her stomach twist unpleasantly and so she shoved it away, tilting her chin to catch Ressler’s lips with her own.

They soon broke apart however, and finished pulling on their respective clothes, before heading out to make coffee. As the machine heated up, Liz started on a bowl of Cheerios and Ressler ate a bagel, while they discussed plans for their upcoming weekend. “You’re sure your cousin won’t mind?” Liz triple-checked.

Ressler frowned as he poured them both coffee. “You know, I’m fairly certain he said yes the first six times, but come to think of it I’m not that sure. I’ll ask again.”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “Ressler.”

He chuckled, tossing her a casual wink, and walked over with her coffee. “Relax Liz. We’ll have the place to ourselves Friday through Sunday. If we wanted we could even stay longer, they don’t use it much this time of year.”

Ressler’s cousin Spencer owned a summer cabin in Virginia, and last week Ressler had surprised her with the news that if they desired, they were welcome to head up for a weekend stay. The November weather meant it would definitely be empty, and Liz was looking forward to getting Ressler out of his natural habitat. If she played her cards right, maybe she could even get him to chop some firewood. She smiled into her coffee mug as her phone rang, Nick’s Pizza calling. She waved at Ressler and held a finger up to her lips before answering. “Hello?”

“Elizabeth! How’s things?”

“Nothing to report. What’s going on, you have a case?” Liz sipped her coffee.

“I do indeed, but first a question. I’m standing in your living room –” Liz choked on her drink, smothering her coughs with her elbow “– and can’t help but notice a distinct lack of your vivacious presence. Care to give me your current location?”

Stalling for time, Liz switched gears. “You broke into my apartment?” she demanded, knowing she’d locked the doors before leaving. Across from her, Ressler froze with his bagel halfway to his mouth.

“Well the door was locked, you weren’t answering and your car was in the parking lot, how was I to know you weren’t being held hostage?”

Liz prayed for patience. “I’m fine, I just woke up early and went out to grab some breakfast from a coffee shop.” Ressler was looking at her questioningly but she waved him off, focusing on the phone conversation.

“Wonderful, why don’t you tell me which shop and Dembe and I can come meet you there.”

Liz frowned, her suspicions awakening. Reddington sounded distinctly like he was fishing. “No that’s okay, I’m just about to finish up. I’ll be back home soon and we can talk then.”

There was a few seconds pause and Liz held her breath. “Very well. Do you mind if I use your microwave?”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you later.” She quickly hung up and looked to Ressler, who was watching her intently. “Change of plans. How fast can you get me home?”

***

The atmosphere shifted from frosty to toasty, as Liz entered her building. Ressler had dropped her off a block away in case Reddington was looking out the window, twelve minutes after she’d ended the phone call. She took the elevator up to give herself a chance to catch her breath, reminding herself that there was no way Red knew. At first she and Ressler had kept things under wraps for professional reasons, and to make sure it was something they were happy with. Now, after just over four months later, and they were still putting it off, both of them eager to keep their affairs private. And Liz would never admit this to Ressler’s face, but she found the whole sneaking around aspect kind of hot.

The lift reached her floor, and Liz stepped out, much calmer than she had been when she’d entered, and headed to her apartment. She knocked twice to make sure she wouldn’t be shot at, and entered.

Dembe was sitting on a couch in her living room, reading a knitting magazine, and Reddington was eating what looked like oatmeal out of a bowl. He looked up at the sound of the door opening. “Elizabeth!” He beamed at her, and Dembe waved.

Liz smiled, dropping her keys on the counter. “Do me a favor, and next time call me before committing a felony.”

Reddington frowned. “Since when is breaking and entering a felony? I could’ve sworn it was a misdemeanor.”

Liz folded her arms. “Nope. And so unless you want to get me in trouble for failing to report your criminal misdeeds, I suggest you make yourself useful and give me a case.”

Reddington ate another spoonful of oatmeal and slid the newspaper across the table to her, before adding in more brown sugar. “Phillip Cabrera. You know him?”

Liz frowned, glancing down at the black and white headshot. “Of course, everyone knows him. He’s that FBI agent who hung himself a couple days ago, his note said he was an alcoholic and unfit to serve.”

Reddington stirred in what must’ve been a quarter cup of brown sugar as Liz waited impatiently. “And what if I told you that Agent Cabrera had in fact been murdered?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’d ask if you were serious. The bureau didn’t find any signs of foul play, and believe me, we looked.”

Reddington calmly scraped the last remnants of his breakfast out of her porcelain bowl, shaking his head. “As it so happens, Agent Cabrera was the latest in a long line to fall victim to the Watchdog.”

“The Watchdog?”

Red walked over to the sink to wash his dishes. “Think of him as an aggressive internal affairs investigator, if internal affairs murdered every law enforcement officer with a skeleton in their closet.”

Liz sat down across from Dembe. “Are you telling me this person goes around killing closeted FBI alcoholics?”

Reddington shook his head as he put his bowl on the dry rack. “Not just the FBI, and not just alcoholics. He targets people across multiple enforcement branches; local police departments, FBI, DEA. If it falls under judicial jurisdiction, it’s fair game, and they don’t have to be alcoholics either. They can be gamblers, be taking bribes, drug addicts, or even overly fond of marijuana, and whether or not they’re in recovery is immaterial. If the Watchdog thinks they’re unfit to be serving, he takes them out and makes it appear to be a suicide, exposing their shortcomings to the world at large.”

Liz felt icy fingers close around her neck, and worked hard not to show it. She had no idea if Reddington knew about Ressler’s trouble with painkillers, but if he didn’t she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. “I’ll call the others and we’ll get started.”

Red nodded. “Excellent. Oh, and Elizabeth, what was the name of that coffee shop you went to? I’d love to try it.”

Liz kept her face neutral. He was definitely fishing. “I don’t remember, it was pretty small.”

He shrugged. “Pity. Well, off you go. Drive carefully.” She stood to go. “And do say hello to Donald for me, gunshot wounds are traumatic for the best of us.”

***

“I’m not saying he knows, but yeah he probably knows.”

Liz and Ressler were at her desk in the Post Office, the blinds closed. Ressler ran a hand through his hair. “What did he say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing concrete, just his general demeanor. And the way he told me to say hello to you, he was just giving off that vibe.”

Ressler sighed. “I mean he was bound to find out sooner or later, but if he does know why not just tell us?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why does Reddington do anything?”

Her partner chuckled. “Fair point.” He reached for the door. “Shall we?”

Liz grabbed his hand. “Ressler, wait.”

He looked at her, confused, and she grimaced. “You may want to sit down.”

Ressler smiled, teasingly. “Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”

Liz pursed her lips, watching him carefully. “This new Blacklister that Reddington gave me. He’s called the Watchdog. He goes after people in law enforcement who he considers to be unfit for service, people with certain… vices.”

He frowned. “Vices?”

Liz steeled herself. “Addictions.”

Ressler’s face seemed to be carved out of stone. “Oh.”

“I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to feel like you’re being blindsided when I brief Aram and Cooper.”

His expression didn’t change, but his tone became slightly defensive. “I appreciate that. But you do know I’m sober right?”

She nodded. “Unfortunately that doesn’t matter, the Watchdog targets people regardless of whether or not they’re in recovery.”

Ressler gave no indication he’d heard her, and Liz placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Hey. You all right?”

He smiled, but she could tell it was forced. “Fine. Come on, we don’t want to keep Cooper waiting.” He left the office before she could say anything else, giving her no choice but to follow. Liz gave the task force information on the Watchdog, careful not to look at Ressler when she talked about how he chose his targets. Once she finished, Cooper had them pull bureau files on all LEO suicides in the past ten years, longer if necessary.

Over the next few hours, Liz, Ressler, and Aram were able to find forty-nine similar-looking cases going back eight years. Finding herself reluctantly impressed at the Blacklister’s efficiency, Liz shut the final file, reaching out to grab the earliest victim.

“Looks like we found his first target,” she spoke up, drawing over Ressler. “Caleb Hastings. He was an ATF agent with a gambling addiction in severe debt, and his suicide note said he did favors for the Albanian mafia in exchange for money to pay everything off. His widow, Julia Hastings, still lives in the area if we want to question her.”

Cooper nodded, apparently agreeing with her. “Sounds like a good place to start. Keen, you and Ressler drive down, see what she remembers. Aram, start going back through these files, looking for even the slightest indication that any of these suicides might not be what they look like.”

***

“Of course I remember it, I don’t know how one forgets coming home to find her husband’s dead body.”

Julia Hastings, a strong-looking woman in her late forties, pensively sipped her tea.

Ressler clasped his hands together, leaning forward. The three of them were sitting in Julia’s living room as they interviewed the widow. “I know this is painful ma’am, but it would really help us if you could go back over what happened that day.”

Julia frowned. “It’s been almost a decade. Of course I’d be willing to walk you through it, I just can’t understand why the bureau is interested in an eight year old suicide.”

“We recently came across some new intel that’s reopened our interest,” said Liz. The woman appeared dissatisfied with the answer, and so Liz kept going. “We believe your husband may have been murdered.”

Julia’s eyes widened and she stared at them in shock, her mouth opening and closing several times. “Murdered?”

“I’m afraid so ma’am,” confirmed Ressler. “That’s why it’s so important for us to make sure we know all the facts.”

She gave him a warm smile that set Liz’s hair on end. “Please, call me Julia,” she practically purred. “I remember it was raining. I spent the day running errands, and my last one was the grocery store. When I got back, the house was quiet, which was strange. Caleb always had the radio, or television on, anything to keep up with whatever sports game was happening. I looked around the house, and found him in the bathtub, with a note explaining everything on the sink.” She gave a small laugh. “To this day I only take showers.”

“You say he always had a sports game on. Were you aware of your husband’s gambling addiction?” Liz asked.

Julia shook her head. “Not until a few days before he died. I came back home a week early, meaning to surprise him, only when I got home he was having a conversation with who I later learned was his bookie. Talking about how the money was all there and he was closing his accounts.”

“Back from where?” Ressler was writing things down in his notepad.

“Afghanistan.”

Ressler looked up in surprise. “You served?”

The woman smiled proudly. “Three tours.” She leaned forward and placed a hand on Ressler’s knee. Liz felt her eyebrows join her hairline. “It does get so terribly lonely overseas.”

Ressler cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, and cast a quick glance at Liz. “Can you think of anyone else who may’ve known about his gambling debts?”

Julia’s smile widened and her hand went up higher on his thigh. Liz could feel the steam coming out of her ears. “No one comes to mind.”

Ressler stood and Julia’s hand fell to her side. “Thank you so much. Please give us a call if you remember anything else.”

She took the card, still giving Ressler that infuriating grin. “And if I want to call you for other reasons?”

“We’ll be in touch ma’am,” Liz interrupted. She tried to smile, but it probably looked more like she was baring her teeth. She grabbed Ressler’s sleeve and tugged him out of the house and across the street, practically throwing him towards the driver’s side of the car.

Liz climbed into the passenger’s seat, slamming the door behind her and fuming as she buckled her seatbelt. Ressler gave her a worried look as he started the car. “And if I want to call you for other reasons?” Liz mimicked, pitching her voice to a falsetto.

Ressler chuckled nervously. “Any thoughts?”

“Something doesn’t add up,” Liz snapped, still feeling short-tempered as they started the drive back. “She can’t take baths after all these years but she still lives in the same house? I saw the crime scene photos, she hasn’t changed any of her décor either.”

“What do you make of it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know.” She pulled her phone out. “Aram, it’s Liz. We didn’t get much from the widow, but I want you to look into her service.”

The technical agent’s voice crackled over the line. “Julia Hastings was in the military?”

“Three tours in Afghanistan,” Liz confirmed.

“That’s not on her records.”

“Which is why I want you to check it for me. Either she’s a bald-faced liar or it’s heavily redacted.”

Aram coughed. “Point taken. Will do.”

Liz hung up angrily and glared out the window. She could feel Ressler glancing at her. “You good Liz?”

She clenched her hands into fists. “Pull over.”

Ressler frowned, guiding the car to the side of the street. “What’s up?”

“I need you to help me check something in the backseat,” Liz answered, opening her door. “Leave the car on, this won’t take long.”

She climbed into the back, finding the side lever to flip the seat down as Ressler came in through the other side. “What’s the matter Keen? You lose an earring?”

Ressler pulled the door shut behind him and Liz surged forward for a kiss, shrugging off her jacket. At first he kissed her back, but then his hands were on her shoulders and he was pushing her away. “Keen what’s going on?”

She stripped her shirt off and tossed it somewhere behind her, before moving for his jacket. “I couldn’t stand seeing that woman all over you,” she muttered, working on his tie. She was irritated with Hastings, nervous from Reddington, and if Ressler didn’t get his hands on her right that second she just might explode.

Unsure of what to do, Ressler let her take the tie off, not moving as her fingers moved to his buttons. “This is entirely inappropriate, what if someone sees us?”

“I guess it’s a good thing the windows are tinted,” Liz snapped. If they weren’t heading back to the Post Office she would’ve ripped the buttons off.

Ressler was still uncertain, but she could hear his voice growing ragged. “Forget, forget inappropriate, then, this is illegal. Indecent exposure, or behavior, or, or something.”

“So shoot me,” she growled, lying back on the seat. “Or better yet, cuff me.”

He moaned as she pulled him down on top of her. “Jesus Liz,” he gasped, mouth going to her neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head as Ressler kissed his way down, stopping only to let her tug off the black sports bra, removing his belt as she did so.

His head came back down as she threw away the constricting fabric, and Liz gave a soft cry as his teeth grazed her nipple. “God I hated having to watch her touch you,” she breathed, fingers fumbling with the button of her jeans.

She could feel Ressler smile against her skin before he moved to her other breast, causing her entire body to seize up with renewed pleasure. He worked at it for a while before looking up at her with a grin. “Are you really that surprised though? I mean I am pretty irresistible.”

Liz made a noise which could only be described as a snarl, and pulled his head back up to hers. “Why don’t you stop talking and kiss me already.”

“Gladly.”

Ressler made good on his word, biting down on her bottom lip, and sweeping his tongue across the roof of her mouth. His kisses were hot, and languorous, each one turning her veins to fire.

Eventually Liz’s hands went back to removing her undone jeans, and Ressler grabbed his wallet before shucking off his own pants. Liz worked off her underwear as Ressler got himself ready, and pulled him down into her.

He fell against her with a small grunt, and then he propped himself up on his elbows and his hips were working against hers and Liz groaned in ecstasy. Ressler reached down between her legs and she reflexively arched her back up into him, before lifting her legs up to grip her partner by the hips and rolling over to pin him beneath her.

His hands came up to grip her breasts as she rode him, her fingers splayed out against his collarbone, until she collapsed against him, spent, both of them breathing hard.

Ressler gently stroked her shoulder blade. “Feeling territorial are we Liz?” he teased.

Liz raised her head to glare at him. “I’m only going to say this once, so it better get through your head. I’m the only one who gets to touch you like that. I’m the only one who drives you crazy.” She leaned down to nip lightly at his earlobe, reveling in how he whispered a soft curse in response. “I’m the only one who gets to make you scream.”

Ressler’s throat bobbed as he nodded. “Message received.”

***

Liz sat down across from Reddington at the restaurant table. “Am I to correctly glean from your rather self-satisfied demeanor that you’ve closed the case?” Red prompted. They were sitting at an old Italian place, with soft red lamps instead of regular lighting. Liz made a mental note to take Ressler there sometime.

Unable to hold back a grin, she nodded. “Julia Hastings.”

Reddington raised his eyebrows at her over his teacup. “The first victim’s widow?”

A waiter came by, but Liz waved him away. “She came home early from her last tour and found her husband meeting with a guy from the Albanian mafia. She was furious. While she was risking her life for her country in Afghanistan, her own husband was selling out, using his position as an ATF agent for personal gain. So she murdered him and staged the scene. Her black ops training made it easy.”

“I thought you said she walked in on him arguing with the bookie?”

Liz shook her head. “She lied. I guess she got a taste for vigilante justice after that, because she kept killing. She found her targets at meetings mostly, starting with her husband’s gamblers anonymous group. She’d take notes on the people there, find anyone in law enforcement, and take them out.”

Reddington finished draining his beverage and started in on some kind of pasta. “If I may, Elizabeth, I can’t help but note you seem particularly vindicated with this case. A personal vendetta perhaps? I heard down the grapevine that Hastings got a little, shall we say, handsy with our friend Donald.”

Liz scowled in disbelief. “How could you have possibly heard that?”

“Oh I have my sources.” His answering tone was as blasé as possible. “So tell me. Any special weekend plans?”

Liz felt herself automatically sitting up straighter in response, and kicked herself, unable to re-correct her position without it being obvious. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Dembe looked over from his place at the bar a few feet away, as though he could sense her lying through her teeth.

Red looked surprised. “Really? No, romantic getaways planned, at say, a lakeside cabin?”

Liz maintained careful eye contact, refusing to blink first. “Are we done here?”

Reddington gave her a maddening grin. “If you’d like we can be. Have a good weekend doing, whatever you’re doing. I’m sure I’ll have a new case come Monday or so, but nothing sooner.”

Liz kept her pace measured, and not-guilty, until she was outside of the restaurant at which point she stamped her foot and closed her eyes. “Shit,” she muttered.

***

Ressler showed up at her apartment the next afternoon, bags already packed when she opened the door. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, opening the door further. “Yeah, just let me grab my suitcase.” She shut the door behind him, taking a bare moment to admire the view. This was without a doubt, the first time she’d ever seen him in jeans; a dark-wash denim. On top he had a gray shirt, and green hoodie beneath a brown jacket. The sight made her mouth water a bit.

Liz returned to her room, hitting the lights and grabbing her duffel off the bed, having already finished preparing the night before. She smiled at Ressler as she locked her apartment. “It’s a three and a half hour drive, you take the first half I’ll take the second?”

They headed towards the elevator. “Sounds good. You want to stop for dinner on the way up or wait until after?”

Liz hit the down-arrow button. “On the way up. That way we won’t have to worry about cooking anything, and if we stop for dinner in town we can grab groceries for breakfast.”

They walked to the parking lot, and Liz climbed into the driver’s seat after they tossed their bags in the back.

The drive up was pleasantly uneventful, mostly spent listening to the radio. Liz liked to keep it on top 40s, but Ressler wanted to use his phone’s playlist. The serenity was interrupted just after Ressler started driving, while they were stopped at a gas station, with a phone call.

He answered. “This is Ressler.”

Liz was trying to decide if she should run inside to buy a pack of gum or not, but she looked up when Ressler held the phone away and muttered ‘son of a bitch’.

What’s wrong? Liz mouthed. He shook his head at her, returning to his conversation. “Do you need us to come back in? Alright. No don’t worry about it, I’ll call Keen. Thanks for the update.”

His forehead wrinkled with a scowl as he put the phone back in his jacket pocket. “That was Cooper. Apparently, Julia Hastings killed a guard and escaped her transport. She’s in the wind.”

Liz kicked a tire. “Damn it. We need to go back?”

Ressler shook his head. “No, local police have it handled, he was just letting us know.”

Liz folded her arms. “You know, I never liked her.”

Ressler grinned. “Oh really? I couldn’t tell.”

She glared at him, before heading up to the station. “Forget it. I’m buying gum, you want anything?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Too bad.”

After purchasing a pack of spearmint gum and a blue Gatorade – which she drank while pointedly looking Ressler in the eye – they resumed their drive.

For dinner they found a pizza place, and stopped at a grocery store nearby before driving the final twenty minute stretch. Liz grabbed her things while Ressler parked in the driveway, and took a moment to admire the place. “Looks good. Very homey.”

“I’m sure Spencer will be pleased with your approval,” Ressler grunted as he shut the trunk.

It was a one-bedroom one-bathroom cabin, with a kitchen, table, and a living room. There was a VHS player with an available selection, and a fireplace. The whole thing had a charmingly rustic feel, and was strangely reminiscent of her time in Alaska. Liz chose to ignore the thought. They headed to the bedroom to drop their bags off, and changed into pajamas. Well, Liz changed into pajamas, Ressler only ever slept in sweats and a loose shirt. They sat on the couch while the Hunchback of Notre Dame played in badly saturated colors on the television, and shared a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

As Quasimodo sang of his love for Esmerelda, Liz set her spoon down and turned to Ressler, letting the blanket they were sharing pool in her lap. “I have to tell you something.”

Ressler set the ice cream down, placing his arm on the back of the couch. “What’s up?”

Already disliking what she was about to say, Liz bit the bullet. “Reddington definitely knows.”

Ressler winced. “Are you positive?”

Liz brought the blanket up to her shoulders, snuggling into the couch cushions. “Yesterday, after we closed the Watchdog case, we were talking and he asked me if I had any weekend plans, specifically, plans for any romantic getaways at a lakeside cabin.”

Ressler blew out a long breath, and Liz ran wandering fingers through his hair. He smiled at her, before grabbing her hand and kissing the palm, lips brushing over the burn scar on her wrist. “Maybe he bugged your apartment.”

Liz shook her head. “No, that’s not his style. Probably bribed my landlady to do it.”

Ressler hummed, and slowly kissed each of her fingers. Her toes curled in pleasure. “Maybe Aram told him.”

Liz snorted. “Maybe. But I’d like to think Aram prefers to forget what he may or may not have seen on that security camera.”

Ressler kept his focus on her knuckles. “Did Reddington ever mention why he gave you this case anyway? His ulterior motive?”

“Not a word. And I didn’t say anything about how you possibly tie in either,” Liz added.

Ressler dropped her hand with a sigh. “Actually, he uh, already knows.”

Liz sat up. “What? About the pills? How?”

He gave a resigned shrug. “How does Reddington know anything? But he showed up to one of my narcotics anonymous meetings a few years ago. He hasn’t said anything since, but he’s aware of it, trust me.”

Liz watched his expression for a few seconds, before snuggling into his side. His arm came around her, fingers idly playing with her hair. “How have you been?” Liz asked. “I know this case can’t have been easy on you.”

She felt his chest expand as he inhaled deeply. “Honestly Liz? I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Liz considered her next words carefully. “You know you’re an amazing agent.”

“I am pretty stellar aren’t I?” she could hear the grin in his voice.

Liz sat up to face him. “I mean it,” she said sternly. “The number of lives you’ve saved? You deserve to be here, regardless of any problems you may’ve had.”

“Problems?” His eyebrows drew together. “Liz, I was high on the job, and if I’d had any self-respect I would’ve turned my badge in on day one.”

“Don’t say that,” Liz snapped. “You were sick, but you got better before any damage was done.”

“And what if I hadn’t?” Ressler demanded. “What if someone had gotten hurt, or killed, because I wasn’t thinking clearly?”

“Stop it, you can’t think like that,” she insisted.

“Why not?” Ressler straightened up. “What if Hastings had the right idea? What if people like me aren’t fit to serve?”

Fighting the urge to smack him, Liz glowered at him. “Ressler, look at me.” He shook his head, and she put her hands on his cheeks to force him to meet her gaze. “Look at me. You are the best person I know. You are a good man, and a great agent. And a couple of missteps does not cancel out all the good you’ve done.”

She could see the last vestiges of doubt flickering in his eyes, and pulled him towards her for a gentle kiss. His lips were hard and unyielding beneath hers, but Liz persisted, and Ressler soon kissed back. His hands went around her waist, pulling her into his lap as her fingers carded through his hair. She moved her mouth to his cheek, and kissed his jawbone, and then the sensitive spot beneath his ear, the one that made him come apart. His thumb dipped beneath the waistband of her pants, causing shivers to erupt over her body.

She brought her own hands down, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off, taking a moment to run her hands over the ridged scar tissue of his chest. A map of all that he’d endured. Her fingers found the most recent one, the place where the Weatherman had shot him through a motel door two months ago. The feel of it sent Liz back to the hospital, where she’d waited anxiously for hours while he was in surgery, her arms painted in his blood. Eager to dispel the image, she brought their lips back together, opening her mouth to his probing tongue, her body turning to mercury beneath his touch.

Ressler’s fingers came up, bringing her shirt with them, and the second it was off Liz folded her body into his own, pressing her breasts up against him, feeling his breath hitch as she did so. Her own breathing was far from controlled, she was practically gasping as she spoke. “Where are the –”

“Bedroom, in the nightstand,” he muttered, hands mapping ghost trails across her skin.

Liz nodded, already losing herself in his touch, but maintaining enough mental acuity to stand up and take him with her. Focusing only on kissing Ressler, one of her all-time favorite activities, Liz let him walk her backwards toward the bedroom.

When they passed the threshold, she just about shrieked as Ressler suddenly leaned down and grabbed her by the thighs, lifting her up so that her legs instinctively wrapped around him, coming together just above the small of his back. She could feel his lips curve slightly upwards as he turned to pin her between his body and the doorframe.

In general, when Liz and Ressler had sex it was light-hearted and playful, with laughter and teasing. Occasionally, it was rough and desperate, like they were trying to cut and kick their way into each other’s bodies, reminding themselves they were both still together and alive.

Tonight though, tonight was different. Tonight was soft touches and lingering kisses, it was a single thought drumming through Liz’s head over and over again as her pleasure climbed higher. Let me love you if you cannot love yourself, let me make you feel good if only for tonight.

Then Ressler’s mouth left hers, dropping down to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, causing her temperature to spike and her body to writhe. “Ress,” she moaned, unable to help it. He obliged her unspoken demand for more, he kissed lower still, across the swell of her breasts, and Liz’s head hit the wood with a dull thud.

Her hands ran up over his shoulders to link themselves around his neck, and Liz forced herself to come back down to earth. She was supposed to be the one making him lose his sanity.

“Bed,” she panted, “now.”

She couldn’t have been more coherent if her life depended on it, but thankfully she didn’t seem to need to be. One of Ressler’s hands moved from her legs to her back, and he carried her the last few steps, before crawling them both up onto the mattress.

Liz unhooked her legs and sat up to kiss him again, every second they were apart seeming to physically pain her. Gently turning him around, Liz moved down to the foot of the bed, taking his sweatpants with her, and then crept back up, smiling at him teasingly from beneath her lashes as she did so.

Ressler’s eyes were hooded and glassy as he watched her, and then her mouth went down between his legs and he moaned as his head fell back onto the pillows.

Liz took her time, using different strokes and rhythms, not stopping until Ressler was practically shaking beneath her. Once he was, she crawled back over him, and he claimed her lips in a searing kiss that went right to her bones.

She made to go for the nightstand, but Ressler grabbed her wrists, still breathing hard, and rolled them over so he was once more on top. Liz gave him a questioning look, and he simply grinned in response, before stripping her of the rest of her clothes, placing her legs on his shoulders and ducking his head down.

Liz was suddenly very, very glad they didn’t have neighbors, because she couldn’t have kept herself quiet if she wanted to.

Each and every morning after, Liz managed to convince herself that she had imagined how good Ressler had been, that there was absolutely no possible way for someone to be that skilled and make her feel so good. And each and every time, he proved her wrong, thoroughly obliterating her standards and simultaneously ruining her for anyone else.

He took her right to the brink before drawing back, and when Liz looked down to see him staring up at her from between her legs, lips slightly damp, she realized she’d reached Nirvana.

Ressler moved up to kiss her again, before reaching for the nightstand drawer as her own fingers re-prepped him.

As soon as he was ready, he thrust into her and her hands clapped onto his back, nails digging into him.

He moved inside her with the knowledge of someone who’d been doing it for years not months, their bodies fitting into each other like they were born to be together.

Ressler finished before she did, but not by much, and soon after they were lying together, his arms drawing her into him. She could tell by his breathing that he was out, and slowly brushed her hands over his arms, letting his heat seep into her beneath the blankets, falling asleep to the lullaby of his body behind hers.

***

They had a late breakfast the next morning, probably not helped by the fact that Ressler woke up while she was in the shower and came in to join her, markedly slowing them both down. Cereal and coffee were currently serving to kick start their energy, as they discussed potential plans for the day.

“Any ideas?” Liz asked.

“Hmm.” Ressler pretended to consider. “You and me, naked.”

Laughter caused her to choke on her Cheerios, as Ressler grinned smugly. “How specific,” Liz said, when she could finally breathe again. “And were we supposed to just go walk around unclothed and frighten the wildlife, or are you planning to not leave the house all weekend?”

He seemed unconcerned. “The rabbits will get over it,” he declared.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Tempting as your proposition may be, I have a counter-offer. There’s an art show later, showcasing local talent, I think we should check it out.”

Ressler was reluctant. “I’m not really an arts and crafts kind of guy.”

She took her finished bowl of Cheerios to the sink. “Come on, it’ll be fun. If we get dressed now we can be there by noon.”

He shook his head in pretend dismay, but she could tell that he’d caved. “I’ll get changed in a minute, I’m going to need more coffee if I have to hear about the intricacies of the color green.”

“That’s the spirit,” she grinned, walking into the bedroom.

She pulled on a pair of jeans and a dark purple tee shirt, when a familiar voice sounded from the kitchen and sent fear straight down her spine.

“Don’t move.”

Liz ducked behind the bed instinctively, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t been spotted, and reached to grab her gun from her duffel bag.

Ressler’s voice was calm. “Hello Julia.”

Liz quietly undid the safety, unsure if the Blacklister knew she was there.

“You know, I almost have to thank you. I couldn’t have picked a better location if I tried. Although it will probably be a while before your body is found.”

Liz’s heart hammered a frantic beat against her rib cage as she walked to the other side of the room, pressing herself behind the door and looking through the crack.

Ressler was standing at the table, hands at his side, his demeanor purposely calm. He was going to try and talk her down, and also keep Julia’s attention away from the bedroom. The woman in question was on the other side of the table, her back to Liz, gun pointed at Ressler’s heart with skill and surety.

“I take it I’m your next target?” Ressler confirmed.

Julia laughed cruelly at him, and slammed a pill bottle down on the table. Liz knew what was in it even from a distance. “I’ve been watching you for weeks, Agent Ressler. You have failed in your duty. The American people trusted you, and you let them down. Now here is what’s going to happen next.” She grabbed the small orange bottle and threw it at Ressler, who automatically caught it. “You’re going to write a note explaining your addiction, and how very sorry you are. Then you’re going to swallow each and every pill in this bottle, or after I kill you, I’ll track down that pretty little partner of yours and kill her nice and slow. After that, I’ll go for your family. But before I kill your loved ones, I’ll tell them all about this problem of yours.”

If Liz was sure of anything in her life, it was that she had to get that bottle away from Ressler. Walking quietly, she crept up until she was a few feet behind Julia. “Put the gun down,” she ordered. “And put your hands on your head.”

She could see the Blacklister’s surprise in the way her back stiffened, but she quickly recovered, turning her head towards Liz ever so slightly. “What have we here? Have I interrupted a little lovers get away?”

“Put the gun down, I’m not going to ask again,” Liz repeated, voice hard.

Julia shook her head. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she growled. “I spent over five years in that desert hell, and when I came back, my own husband was working to destroy the very people I was risking my life to protect. Because he was weak.” She spat the word out like it was coated in poison. “Weak like your partner. How can you defend him when you know he’ll eventually do something that can’t be undone?”

Liz didn’t bother to respond. “This is your last warning, drop your weapon.”

She finally turned her head to look at Liz, her gun slowly coming down, and Julia gave her a very sad smile. “I can’t,” she confessed.

With lightning speed, the widow brought the gun back up to Ressler, but Liz was faster, firing three shots into her back in rapid succession.

Julia Hastings collapsed to the floor, and Liz knelt down, checking her for a pulse that she didn’t find, and immediately ran over to Ressler.

“Ressler,” she whispered, grabbing him by the shoulders. His eyes were fixed on the container in his hands that he held with a white-knuckled grip, and his expression slightly vacant. Liz felt the beginnings of panic. “Ressler, I’m going to take the pills from you now.” Trying not to spook him, Liz slowly pried open his fingers, taking away the oxy. His entire body seemed to sag once it was out of his grip. “I’m going to call Cooper and the police, tell them what happened.”

Ressler gave a little shake of his head, seeming to come back down to earth. “We’ll have to tell them she was targeting me, they’ll know I’m an addict.”

Liz shook her head, gripping his hands. “You were her arresting officer. She came here to kill you because of that, no other reason.”

Ressler’s eyes met hers, and she saw his expression become one of understanding, as he realized the out she was giving him. She saw the moment he decided to take it. “Okay.”

***

Cooper seemed willing to accept Hastings coming after Ressler in revenge, especially after she confided why she and her partner were together at a lakeside cabin in Virginia. Her boss’s revelation threshold was abnormally high, but even he could only process so much at once.

She had finished giving her statement earlier, the pills securely hidden away in the lining of her duffel bag, but the cops were still talking to Ressler. Her phone rang, and she glanced down, sighing when she saw the ID. Liz glanced up at Ressler and pointed to her phone, waiting until he nodded before stepping outside to answer it.

“Elizabeth, how’s Donald?”

Liz sighed. “He’s fine. How did you hear?”

“A little birdie sang a song,” answered Reddington. “What about you, are you all right?”

Liz nodded before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine, I just have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

She glanced back at the cabin, and lowered her voice. “You gave us this case because of Ressler didn’t you? You knew he was her next target.”

Reddington sighed. “If you didn’t know, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. Especially considering your current relationship.”

Liz let out a laugh that was half bitterness. “Which of course, you also know about.”

“Elizabeth, the list of things in this world I don’t know about, is very small indeed.”

She pressed a hand to her head, feeling the beginnings of a migraine. “Cooper still doesn’t know,” she said. “We told him and the cops she came here because Ressler was the one who arrested her, and as far as I’m concerned, they’re never going to find out any differently. Can I trust you to keep quiet about this?” Cooper may give them more leniency than most department heads, but even he had to draw the line somewhere.

There were a few beats of silence on the other end. “Donald Ressler is one of the few bureau agents I both loathe and respect. Even without my guiding hand, he does good work, and I would abhor seeing him go down over something that was resolved years ago.”

Liz exhaled in relief, tension she hadn’t even noticed was there leaving her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“One last thing, before you go.”

Liz rolled out a crick in her neck, suddenly exhausted. “What is it?”

“Be good to him, Lizzie. There are few things in this world capable of destroying a man the way love can, and you happen to hold his extremely fragile heart in your hands. Careful not to crush it.”

Swallowing around a sudden lump in her throat, Liz took a moment to answer. “I will.” She ended the call before she could do something really stupid like cry, and took a moment to compose herself before reentering the house, passing two officers on her way in.

Liz headed over to where Ressler was sitting at the table, dragging a chair up so she could wrap her arms around him. “Do you think your cousin will be mad we turned his cabin into a crime scene?”

Ressler gave a small chuckle at her attempt at levity. “I’ll send him some lottery tickets to smooth it over.”

Liz rubbed calming circles on his shoulder. “Are we good to go?”

He nodded. “Yeah, police said they don’t have any more questions.” But he made no move to stand.

Liz placed a quick kiss on his cheek, and gently pulled him up. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They went to grab their things from the bedroom, ignoring the forensics team dusting for prints, and headed towards the car. Liz tried once again to lighten the mood. “I have to say, I’m relieved they didn’t go through my bag. I’d have a hard time explaining the sexy nurse costume.”

Ressler tripped over nothing. “I’m sorry, the what?”

Liz gave him a teasing grin. “Yeah it was meant to be a surprise, but now that our trip’s been cut short I guess I’ll just have to save it for some other time.”

He narrowed his eyes at her questioningly. “You didn’t actually pack a sexy nurse costume, did you?”

Liz shrugged expressively, still grinning. “Who’s to say?”

Ressler groaned as they threw their things in the trunk. “Okay, now you’re being mean. You can’t say something like that and then not confirm it, am I supposed to just try and figure it out the entire drive back?”

Liz winked as she started the engine. “Well maybe if you ask very nicely, when we get back to my place I can… satisfy your curiosity one way or another.”

Ressler scowled, buckling his seatbelt. “You’re a horrible person, you understand that?”

Liz simply giggled, and pulled out of the driveway. “Yes, but I’m a horrible person who may or may not have a sexy nurse’s outfit in the backseat.”

He groaned. “Liz!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on twitter @writer_gen

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write more for this pairing but literally cannot find any ideas for fics so like. send me prompts. please. I swear I'll write them I'm really bored and I have a midterm that I don't want to do.  
> Follow me on twitter @writer_gen


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